To Be A Superhero
by Gilly B
Summary: A standoff in the snow. A question hangs in the balance. Is death the only answer? Rusame Oneshot, Cold War.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything... Technically... this mentions nothing about Hetalia... Yeah...

RussiaXAmerica ... If you imply that that's who they are... This was an English assignment that I turned into Fanfiction. Aren't I awesome? Yeah!

Anyway... Notes and translations at the bottom!

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><p>A standoff in the snow. Weapons glinted in the light of the stars, equally deadly. One stood over the other. The other, laying helpless in the cold, stared into the barrel of the .44 Magnum Revolver. The outdated, but beloved weapon of the other's enemy. A question lay heavily in the air, or more, an answer. Blood poured heavily from the other's shoulder wound, missing the heart but immobilizing the other. The other's own outdated yet beloved weapon, a TT-33 Handgun, was aimed at the one, but even with the fight being waged between weapons, both knew which would win. But that was the question. Would the white be further stained red in the night? A decision torn in half.<p>

Hero had always been the type to barge into a situation head first, toes last. Quick decisions held the greatest impact in the Hero's line of work. There was no drawing up a pros and cons chart in the middle of battle. And yet, here Hero was, standing over the enemy with no one to stop the bullet and on the edge, drawing up a pros and cons chart in the snow.

Kill Villain? Pro: Villain could do no evil. Con: Villain was dead. Pro: It was the smart thing to do. Con: It wasn't what the heart wanted. Pro: Would Villain rather die than receive mercy? Con: Villain had never wanted to fight this battle, let alone die for it. Pro: Hero wouldn't have to worry about Villain causing more trouble. Con: It was sacrificing one for the greater good, exactly what Hero was fighting against. Pro: It would satisfy the people and let them rest at ease. Con: This would only work for _Hero's _people, Villain's would be left to suffer.

Was the one even the Hero anymore or was the other a martyr. Was this even about Hero and Villain? Or was it the good of one people versus the good of another? Both were stubborn in their outcome. The one didn't want to kill the other. That was fact. Hero had always been told to follow the heart, but sometimes it made stupid decisions. Villain's death would secure the safety of Hero's people, but it would break their Hero's heart. They had been allies once and they weren't that different really. Each fought at their people's will. Puppet's on a string and their strings had become tangled. Of similar make and model, their differences stood out like October to April, Winter to Spring, Day to Night. Opposite pieces of a puzzle that fit together snug.

They were on opposite sides. It was Hero's duty to kill Villain no matter how he hesitated. But there was a darkness though, lurking in the heart. It was bloodthirsty, warmongering. It demanded Villain's blood be splashed across the snow and stained in the sky above for being what Villain was. It was a terrifying darkness that was thrilled at the sight of the other laying helpless in the chill, haloed by frost and blood. It screamed in pleasure at the sight of Villain's ever-present, beloved scarf torn from the other's heavily scarred neck and dyed red. Kill it yelled, kill! The other killed so many! The other deserves to _die_! _I_ have killed so many! The heart shouted back into the darkness. "Do _I_ deserve to die?" It was not the heart that whispered the words into the cold. They fogged and floated and danced with the snowflakes.

"I have never thought so."

Hero's breath hitched in the dying night. Villain's voice was soft like the moonlight, with a foreign lilt that made it glow. Both weapon's were lowered as the one approached the other.

"Me neither Snowflake, me neither."

"Then why ask? Your audacity astounds me."

Hero could not hold in the hysterical laughter at the absurdity of Villain's words, the absurdity of the situation, and the absurdity of the snowflakes still falling.

"Not what I meant, u-ya-dv-ha."

Violet eyes met blue. An ironic kind of laughter danced in shades of lilac, teasing the one's of blue.

"Then what, my Sunflower, moĭ podsolnechnika, did you mean?"

It was an acknowledgment that Villain knew exactly what Hero meant.

"I _meant_," Hero's heart sped up during the pause, "that I never really hated you."

It was as if the fading ghosts of dawn had met the brilliance of the noonday sky. The soft violet of the night that lingered before the sun kissed the sky contrasted with the vibrant blue of a sunny day in fields of wheat. With that single statement, new possibilities opened up. Villain was no longer Villain, and Hero was no longer Hero. They were now Snowflake and Sunflower, U-ya-dv-ha and Podsolnechnika. Two very different things that both held a beauty of their own.

Snowflake smirked.

"You know you are going to have to kill me."

Sunflower smirked.

"But that's the dilemma isn't it?"

Curiosity was seen and sated.

"I don't _want_ to kill you. It's what my people want."

A threat was made, but there was no movement to follow through. The precious gun was tossed to the side and landed next to the other long-forgotten weapon. Sunflower knelt in the cold and propped Snowflake up, re-wrapping the beloved scarf, and used their backs to support each other. Snowflake's head lulled on Sunflower's shoulder.

"You're cold." _Emotionally and physically._

"Is that not the reason you call me Snowflake?"

Knees were pulled to a chest in an awkward shuffle. A hesitant chuckle escaped.

"I call you Snowflake for many reasons." A blush warmed the air. "You're cold like one, yeah, but you can be delicate too."

"Delicate?"

Another chuckle and a quick race to clarify after the other's tone.

"Emotionally. You're lonely, just like me. I know how it feels. It's part of why you started all this."

A soft sigh of understanding from both parties.

"You're one of a kind, too. Every time we fight or see each other, I learn something new about you. Different. Like a snowflake."

A silence followed. The one who had spoken fidgeted against the back of the other, desperate to turn and see the other's expression. What was Snowflake thinking? Had Sunflower said something wrong? But that was why they sat as they did. Hiding from each face and emotion so they could whisper secrets to the rising sun.

"Sunflowers... have always held a special place in my heart."

The tension was frosty as breath was held on both sides. Sunflower could take it no more. There was a shuffling as a chin was rested on a frozen shoulder, arms were wrapped in a loose hug that avoided a bloody wound, and a chest was pressed against a back.

"Do... Do I hold a special place in your heart too?" The words tickled the other's ear. A smile spread that was uncharacteristically warm and it touched the Sunflower to the bone.

"Yes."

Jubilation was mixed with a sudden revelation. A tear escaped to play with the snow and the smile slipped with it. Sunflower's face burrowed into Snowflake's scarf.

"You do not _have_ to kill me. And I do not _have _to kill you."

A muffled voice sobbed from the scarf.

"And what? Are we gonna pull a Romeo and Juliet?"

Positions were flipped as Sunflower was suddenly dragged into Snowflake's lap. The one was surprised that the other still had the strength after the injury. But tears were nevertheless wiped away by a gentle hand.

"We are not so needed by our people."

Shock. "And abandon them? Can we even do that?"

"They abandoned us when they demanded our deaths. If not one dead, then the other. The price was too high this time."

Right. This time. Because this had happened so many times before, to so many others and to themselves. How many other friends had Snowflake or Sunflower lost to the will of the people? A thoughtful pause.

"Where would we live?"

Answers flowed readily.

"Somewhere very warm."

_I'm tired of the cold._

"Alright. Warm it is."

_Me as well._

"But, what would we do?"

_I can't decide._

"Grow sunflowers."

_Please?_

"Money?"

_I'm not sure about this..._

"We will sell them. We will have a nice little flower shop."

_I'll make you happy._

"What about me? What will I do?"

_I know you will. But will __I__ make __you__ happy?_

"We will grow anything you want and sell it as well. We will start a farm with a yard and one of those white picket fences you are so fond of."

_Always. Please?_

"Now you're being silly."

_Are you sure?_

"I am never silly. Will you run away with me?"

_Always. Please?_

"Yes."

_Let's go._

Limbs were lifted and sorted until they stood standing. Snowflake leaned heavily on Sunflower. The show of strength earlier seemingly a fluke. There was a contented silence as the two moved in the direction of the yet-to-be sunrise. The beloved weapons were both left in the snow. Sunflower hummed a small tune before breaking the silence.

"Ayor Anosh'ni." Mutual smiles spread as the words dripped sweetly from the one's lips. The other answered back in kind.

"Ya tebya lyublyu."

Silence once again filled the air of the dawn. Breath mingled and fogged in the cold air before them. A small tune was once again hummed and broken.

"You know... The question was never answered."

Footprints were crunched in the snow and left behind.

"There is no correct answer, moĭ podsolnechnika."

Yellow burst forth as the sun brought light to the night sky. Scars made by one and the other were revealed in the brilliance. The forever stretching snow-scape illuminated the world. The other allowed a small smile to escape with the sun.

"Just as the snow is more than one shade of white. So is the answer more than one shade of gray."

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><p>Wee~! Innit cute~?<p>

Translations and other notes:

TT-33 Handgun: Russian semi-automatic pistol developed in the early 1930s as a survice pistol for the Soviet military.

.44 Magnum Revolver: Described by 'Dirty' Harry Callahan as the "most powerful handgun in the world" Came to the attention of the general public in 1971 with the film Dirty Harry.

Russian: moi podsolnechnika- My Sunflower

Cherokee (Native American): u-ya-dv-ha -Frost

Navajo (Native American): Ayor Anosh'ni- I love you

Russian: Ya tebya lyublyu- I love you


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